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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29158017">friends will help you out (as long as you reciprocate)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cemeteryblooms/pseuds/cemeteryblooms'>cemeteryblooms</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abusive Parents, Alexis | Quackity Deserves Better, Alternate Universe - High School, Developing Friendships, Emotional Baggage, Eventual Relationships, First Meetings, Fluff and Humor, Football Player Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), George deserves better, Homophobic Language, M/M, Quackity just wants friends, Recreational Drug Use, Sapnap Deserves Better, Sapnap is an arsonist, They've got issues, They/Them Pronouns for Karl Jacobs, Trans GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Trans Male Character, Transphobia, Underage Drinking, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, everyone deserves better tbh, just teens living their lives n bein friends n shit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:13:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,206</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29158017</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cemeteryblooms/pseuds/cemeteryblooms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"i'm spending all my pay on weekends with my best friends, tell my mum that i'm okay"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>in which dream feels inadequate, george feels disrespected, sapnap feels scared, karl feels too much, quackity feels invisible, and they all meet on an abandoned overpass.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alexis | Quackity &amp; Clay | Dream, Alexis | Quackity &amp; GeorgeNotFound &amp; Sapnap, Alexis | Quackity &amp; Karl Jacobs &amp; Sapnap, Clay | Dream &amp; GeorgeNotFound &amp; Karl Jacobs &amp; Sapnap, Clay | Dream &amp; GeorgeNotFound &amp; Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Karl Jacobs/Sapnap</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>117</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>friends will help you out (as long as you reciprocate)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>takin a break from my angsty karlnap fic because it’s awful but i don’t wanna delete it and instead i’m writing a light-hearted dnf and karlnap one?? u r absolutely right!! also disclaimer: i’m australian and idk anything about american landscapes and shit so it’s mostly gonna b based on aussie shit get fucked</p>
<p>also disclaimer: by writing this i'm not implying any of these content creators are dating ad you shouldn't take this as an implication of that either pls use ur brains yada yada yada show this to the ccs and i will break ur spine</p>
<p>title / fic inspo from sobercoaster by beddy rays</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i> george. </i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>george realised he was transgender when he was sixteen, and it was the most relieving sensation, just watching as all the pieces fell into place and he finally understood who he was.</p>
<p>he didn’t feel comfortable telling his parents that instant though. being raised in a religious household, he was aware of the possible scenarios that could arise if his parents became aware of his gender. with personal conviction, paired with the anxiety of the unknown regarding his parents, he began to work on small changes to strive towards a perception of himself he wished to achieve.</p>
<p>the dresses and skirts from his school uniform were discarded in the waste since he was unable to try and get to the op shop to give them away without raising concern, he trained himself to deepen his voice the most he could muster through the teachings of some handy youtube clips, he slowly shifted his mannerisms over time, and he even managed to order his first binder with the package flying completely under his parents’ radars (which was significantly more comfortable than using bandages whenever he was at school).</p>
<p>at the start of the summer break before his senior year, george cut off the long ponytail of brown hair that trailed down to his mid-back prior, slyly sneaking out of the backdoor in the middle of the night and biking to the pharmacy on the other side of the block, picking up a bottle of hair dye a darker shade of brown than his natural hair. he dyed his hair that same night when he got back, the results coming out a deep brown, almost coal black colour, and george grinned at his reflection in the mirror, the now shortened hair doing wonders for quelling the dysphoria that stirred at the thought of his old hair that he always thought off as far too ‘girly’. he gave it a slight buzz with the help of the clippers, determined to get it as short as he possibly could.</p>
<p>proud of his handiwork, he had cleaned up the bathroom and went to bed, blindly stumbling to the kitchen for breakfast after only getting three hours of sleep. his mother genuinely cried over george’s new change in his hair, sobbing over the loss of her “precious daughter’s beautiful hair”, it made george laugh.<br/>
without giving it much thought, george had off-handily remarked “at least your son looks good!”</p>
<p>as soon as he had said the words however, he regretted it, feeling as if he had just been punched in the stomach. the silence that fell over the room felt nauseating.</p>
<p>“what did you say?” his father asked coldly from his spot at the table.</p>
<p>george felt the confidence he had had hours before when he had cut his hair fizzle out, as if this new george he had formulated had just came and went. “mum, dad, i’m trans, i’m your son. i would like to be referred to from now on as george, and with he and him pronouns.”</p>
<p>he felt like the quiet that followed was processing and understanding, until his father laughed, as if george’s identity was a cruel joke. “now jess, you know we don’t believe in that.”</p>
<p>hearing his birthname after that was just felt like the biggest slap in the face, and all he could do was stand there, stunned. after getting so accustomed to being treated with the basic human decency at school of having his name and pronouns respected, hearing his parents laugh it off felt like all he had built over the year had crumbled down in seconds.</p>
<p>his mother simply pushed a plate of bacon and eggs into his hands, kissing the top of his head lightly. “you’re just going through your tomboy phase now sweetie. you’ll grow out of it, i promise you.”</p>
<p>george simply stared at the sunny side-up eggs ladled on his plate, wished that some of their bright and cheerful energy would rub onto him after that blow, and returned to his bedroom in a haste.</p>
<p>that summer break was tense, and the relationships he had spent his life building with his parents had diminished in mere moments. the only one who treated him how he wished in his household was his little sister emma, which was quite ironic that she could and his parents couldn’t considering emma was a toddler who still wore pull-ups and struggled to recite the alphabet after the letter k. every single interaction he had with his father, on the other hand, eventually descended into an argument over george’s gender identity, topped with a few slurs carelessly thrown around from his father’s hand like the cherry atop a sundae. george had learnt to fight these things with fire; his dad burnt his binder so he ordered a new one, his father snidely remarked that his genitalia flunked any attempt he had to be a boy, so george would ask how his father’s atherosclerosis was treating him.</p>
<p>things never got physical, which could be a blessing or a curse depending on who you are, however, they always left george emotionally drained and on the verge of frustrated tears, the desperate war to just get a shred of human fucking decency leaving him physically and mentally exhausted. his dad would stomp around the house shouting obscenities while his wife followed him in an attempt to cool his rage, whilst emma brought george a handful of cheese balls from the pantry that taste suspiciously warm from sitting in the palms of her hands for a while.</p>
<p>this all lead up to the friday night of the first week of senior year. a tradition in george’s household was for friday night dinner to be ordered from the fish and chip restaurant on the opposite side of the city (george knew that it was owned by the family of his classmate wilbur), where they would sit together around the dining table and eat together as if they were a nuclear family from the nineteen fifties.</p>
<p>it was where george sat that instant, idling cutting the fish fillet in front of him into small metric cubes and pushing them around with his fork, zoned out as his mother recounted what he assumed was supposed to be a funny story about some “infuriating client” she had to deal with at work, judging about how his father appeared to be laughing along.</p>
<p>“what about you jessica? how was your first week back at high school?” his mother asked absentmindedly, focusing on cutting up emma’s fish fingers as the little girl pouted in her seat at the assistance.</p>
<p>george looked up from beneath his neatly styled hair that had grown since the start of summer and was hanging dangerously low to the top of his eyes, seeing his parents looking at him expectantly. feelings of self-consciousness creeped in from the back of his mind, he had changed into an oversized blue hoodie after he took of his binder after school, and his mind wrestled to figure out if they were staring at that or his swept and gelled hair. he simply shrugged, pushing those thoughts out of his head.</p>
<p>“i made friends with this guy eret, they use all pronouns and are president of the gsa at school. i think i might join it, he’s really nice and supportive, and he has a lot of good resources for gender therapy and how to prepare for surgeries, stuff like that.” he explained, chewing a chip absentmindedly in hopes that the rhythm of his teeth grinding down the potato would distract him enough from the onslaught his parents were going to muster.</p>
<p>and onslaught it was.</p>
<p>his father brought a fist up before slamming it into the table in anger, the glasses and plates shaking from the force slightly and emma beginning to cry into his mother’s shoulder as she was startled by the loud and abrupt noise. “how many times are we going to have this conversation jessica? how many times are we going to tell you to get over this idiocy?”</p>
<p>“you can call me george you know, god isn’t going to smite you dead if you do.” george spat, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms.</p>
<p>the look on his father’s face darkened to outright murderous. “you are ridiculous, young lady. you stay as the one as you are born as, simple as that!”</p>
<p>george felt his jaw tighten, he wanted to scream at his dad, to spout his shit back at him. he knew that emma didn’t like the loud noises of arguing, so he pushed his chair back roughly and marched up to his room. he grabbed a side bag that hung on his door handle, haphazardly tossing his phone, wallet, house keys, and his lighter in. as he turned around, he caught sight of the strap of a bra peeking out from under his bed, which george dragged out with his foot to properly see it. it was a light purple and lacey, and george remembered tossing it under there around two months ago, after his mother remarked that he “hadn’t been wearing them lately” and the action would “put too much strain on his back” regardless of the fact that she was completely aware that he was binding at that point.</p>
<p>as he stared at it, an idea popped into his head. george put on a wolfish grin, tossing the bra into his bag as well as he slid on his trainers and made a beeline to the front door. he was aware of the frantic mutterings between his parents as he walked past, his father attempting to approach him as he opened the front door. “you walk out that door young lady, and you are going to be in so much shit later!”</p>
<p>george rolled his eyes, already stepping into the warm spring air. “i’m sure i will be, that is of course if your atherosclerosis doesn’t take you out first.” he emphasised his point as he slammed the door shut behind him, feeling pride as he heard the roar of rage from his father from behind the door.</p>
<p>the last thing he heard his father yell to his mother as he walked down the driveway onto the road was “betty, she has absolutely no respect for anyone, it’s atrocious for a grown lady to be acting this way!”, and george couldn’t help but laugh out loud at that statement. he had respect for people; he had respect for those that treated him how he wished to be treated, why was he supposed to give respect to those that didn’t give it to him to begin with?</p>
<p>george began to walk down his street, watching the sun began to dip lower and lower at the horizon as the streetlights began to flicker on. the sky above was comprised of pink, blue and orange hues, reflecting off of the leaves of the trees along the nature strips. he made it to the top of his street where the familiar break in the netted gate onto the government properties sat, a gap big enough to pull the fence back and effortlessly slide inside. it was the result of eight straight afternoons of hard work and determination by george’s elementary school friends at the time and george himself, where they would slip in and wander through the rolling expanses of fields behind the factories and industrial plants, poking around in ditches and drains that they came across.</p>
<p>it had become a sort of space spot for all the kids across various ages in town, it was relatively untouched by the police and none of the parents were aware of where the opening was so it couldn’t be closed up. the vastness of the landscape paired with the emptiness was comforting to george, it allowed him to mull over the thoughts in his head and let out his emotions without the risk of putting the safety of others at bay. it was blissful, to say the least.</p>
<p>as george slipped through and let the gate shut back behind him, he straightened up as the grass reached his knees, bare and exposed to the long blades of grass that had been untouched by a mower for a while. he began to walk his way through the fields, looking over at the building on the right, just visible from behind the fences, making sure that there was no life nearby so he could slip past undetected. he knew exactly where he wanted to go, and just prayed that he could make it there without getting caught by anyone.</p>
<p>the place in question was an old train station. it wasn’t entirely abandoned per say, the trains still ran through it, however it had long been unused, and the trains didn’t even stop there. it was a while walk away, through the first field near the factories, over the drain entrance, past the tree line at the back, dash across the path, through the entire next field, and then up at the top of the hill. it was usually inhabited with people seeking shelter in the buildings that still remained or underneath the platforms (though it was harder to get there than just staying in the cubbies), and it was a hotspot for teens who wished to do activities away from their parents’ prying eyes, usually taking drugs or drinking when underage.</p>
<p>as george made his way over, his steps wide and high to lessen the struggle of getting through the high grass, he felt his fists ball up again in anger. god, his father was so infuriating. he wished he could transition further, he had tried to book in gender therapy appointments, however they all needed approval from a parent or guardian since george wasn’t eighteen until november. his dad, obviously, refused, and his mother too, since she still lived in a fantasy in which this was all just some elaborate phase that george was going through and it wasn’t something that directly impacted his livelihood.</p>
<p>at the drain entrance, george stumbled across a rock. it was slightly scuffed, marks and ridges etched into it in a prominent white colour, however, the overall deep grey stone and a smooth texture beneath his fingers, seemingly to shimmer with a glossy shine beneath the setting sun and being the size of george’s three middle fingers. he decided to take it along with him, tossing it into the air with one hand and catching it with the opposite as he continued to walk to the trees.</p>
<p>with each toss, he felt himself exhale some of the animosity he had towards his parents’ views. however, with each catch, they returned with double the intensity. george felt his gaze harden as he continued to toss the stone, wondering what would’ve happened if he had stayed at the house, if he had continued to argue with his dad for his wants to be respected. would things have gotten physical? even though it was a bad thought to have, george did daydream about punching his dad sometimes. he knew it wasn’t smart of him to pick physical fights with people, considering he was only around one hundred and seventy-five centimetres tall and struggled to carry a full milk carton by himself, but he also wouldn’t pass up that opportunity to lay a punch on that man. there was only so long he could dig his nails into the palms of his hands, tell himself to suck it all up and deal with it until he eventually broke. there was only so long the fuse would remain lit until george would eventually blow.</p>
<p>
  <i>i hate him so much, i hate him, fuck him, FUCK HIM!</i>
</p>
<p>with a yell, george impulsively threw the rock across the field with all the force he could muster in his skinny limbs. he expected it to just hit the dirt and stay where it landed until he made his way over to it, but that stopped when he heard a shout of pain from within the grass in the distance and george froze in place.</p>
<p>someone had been here the whole fucking time.</p>
<p>george clutched his bag, looking over his shoulder to see how far he was from the gate, but he would have no chance of making it back to the street if he had to make a break for it, and he quickly sifted through his bag to look for something he could defend himself with if things got bad, but all he had that could do any damage was his keys, maybe.</p>
<p>in simpler terms, he was the definition of ‘fucked’.</p>
<p>he noticed a figure stir in the grass before fully standing up, before turning to face him. they were wearing a lime green hoodie, causing them to seamlessly blend into the tall grass around them. as george looked over the figure’s face, he recognised them as someone from his year, he was pretty sure he had a class with them. that’s right! they were in his algebra class, he sat diagonally from them and they constantly asked him about homework, since they were on one of the sports teams and regularly out of class. their skin was slightly golden, as if it was dipped in liquid sunshine, and freckles dotted the high rise of their cheekbones. forest green eyes seemed to stare confused over at george, hands clad in brown fingerless leather gloves as one rubbed at the back of their head where the rock had collided with their skull, tussling locks of dirty blonde hair.</p>
<p>george simply stared back at him, probably looking like a complete fool with the way his mouth was certainly gaping open and his brain short wiring because wow, he realised, he had probably just given a really cute person a concussion.</p>
<p>“what are you doing here?” george shouted to them from where he was, hoping that his loud and harsh tone would make him come off as more intimidating, and thus lower the chances of this guy doing anything to him, probably along the lines of literally trying to kill george who had just thrown a rock at their head.</p>
<p>“i don’t want to go home,” they yelled back, their accent hinting that they had been born and raised here, as opposed to george, who had yet to shake off his british accent after living in america for the past eight years. “why are you here? better yet, why did you throw a rock at me?”</p>
<p>george sighed. “i’m angry, and i wanna burn shit.” he responded.</p>
<p>it was silent for a moment, and george watched them fully focus over at him, as if he was mulling over everything. after a moment of consideration, they gestured with their thumb pass the tree lines, in the direction george was initially anticipating on heading. “i know a place we can go to burn shit and not set all the grass on fire, you wanna come with?”</p>
<p>george fell silent for a moment, but decided it was worth it considering this could be reparations for nearly knocking this person’s lights out in a bizarre accident. so, he shrugged, beginning to walk over to the figure.</p>
<p>“sure.”</p>
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